


The heart of this storm

by MyLadyDay



Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dragons, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Implied Violence, M/M, Mentions of War, Mercenaries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-10
Updated: 2014-12-10
Packaged: 2018-02-28 22:46:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2749910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyLadyDay/pseuds/MyLadyDay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Six months didn’t seem like such a long time to be apart, not when they had a lifetime together ahead of them, but the frozen battlefield beneath his feet was no place for unwavering hope. Day 10 of the Zosan Christmas Exchange.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The heart of this storm

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by Aerle.

The roar of dragons tore through the air, the sound overpowering the clashing of swords and the screams of men on the ground below. Sanji’s ears hurt from cries of the three beasts descending from the snowy skies, the flapping of their wings stirring up the already fallen snow. They created a wind stronger than what nature had in store for them. The battle was virtually over and won for the army Sanji was part of this time as soon as the first dragon touched the bloodied snow on the ground.

Victorious cheers for the dragons and their riders from the other archers around him drowned out the turbulent thoughts in his mind for a mere moment before dread coiled in his gut. He watched, with ice running through his veins, as the enemy’s soldiers fell before sharp fangs and fiery roars, one figure dressed in black after another. His hand remained still around the smooth bow, the other still gripping the tail end of an arrow far too tight, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. In the sea of black uniforms, Sanji had lost sight of a head of green hair and the glint of gold.

As soon as the first dragon touched the ground, Sanji knew their deal was a bad idea. He fought hard with himself, barely able to stop himself from jumping into the fray of dragon’s fire and sharp swords. There was no care for alligences in his mind, this battle was not his and he cared little for the person paying him to fight, but he was supposed to care for the money waiting for him at the end of the line. Silly, how it felt redundant at the moment, yet it was so important months ago when he parted from Zoro. Ironic, how all of it led to this; their separation and the pain that came with it, the loneliness he endured for four months with the hope of a better life looming at the horizon. All of it led them to opposite sides of the same battlefield and Sanji couldn’t help the mirthless smile stretching his lips.

What had he been expecting? That they would be allowed to meet up after six long months with pockets full of gold and the rest of their lives before them, to spend together? It was awfully naive of him, he realized in hindsight. Mercenaries don’t get to retire or live happily ever after. It was silly of him to dream of such things and, even worse, that Zoro had indulged him. Zoro, who asked for nothing more than for Sanji to watch his back in battle. Such a simple task, and yet Sanji managed to fail, his idea of separating for six months to gather more money leaving Zoro to face dragons on his own.

Sanji’s eyes, wide and panicked, glanced over the chaos, ignoring the sting of snow on his uncovered face. He barely spared a thought for the dragons and the riders perched safely up high on their saddles. His gaze roamed over the unmoving bodies strewn on the blood soaked ground, but he barely let himself feel anything for those who had fallen. None of them had the green hair he tried to catch sight of so none mattered to him. Absentmindedly, Sanji shot the arrow he held onto for far too long, ending yet another life. It hardly mattered anymore, he was doomed already.

His gloved hand held onto the bow, but he had no intention of firing more arrows, instead his other hand absentmindedly clutched at the gold hanging from his right ear as he desperately tried to locate Zoro in the mass of people still on the battlefield. Sanji hoped he would find him amongst the living rather than the dead, but he was starting to think hope was no longer something he was allowed to feel. If Zoro was dead, no one was at fault but him and Sanji was so painfully aware of it.

His eyes flew over to the edges of the battlefield and to the soldiers in black fleeing towards their camp, visible in the distance only because the tents were the same color as their uniforms, dark in the vast white of snow. As expected, the enemy was retreating as their king fell and the battle came to a close with swift finality.

The troops roared in triumph as the riders guided their dragons into the air, leaving nothing but enemies behind, either dead or dying, it no longer mattered. Victory was achieved and yet Sanji was numb. He cared little for winning or the feasts that followed; he only cared for the celebration he and Zoro shared for surviving yet another war that wasn’t theirs. There was nothing to celebrate this time, however. Not yet, at least.

Sanji hadn’t even noticed the commander approaching until a coin purse fell before him, making him look from the corpses on the field below and towards the man before him. He looked at Sanji with disdain, mild disgust clear on his face as Sanji took the money he had earned. It was nothing unusual and Sanji stood with his head held high, used to being viewed as nothing but a tool for war, a mere weapon to be used gladly in battle only to be shunned with disgust once the fight was over. It was the treatment they always received, after all, and at this moment, he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

His thanks were short and as cold as the air around them. The commander left his side immediately without looking back and Sanji was, at least, glad for that. He took a brief moment to slide the money into the inner pocket of his cloak before tightening his grip on the bow with one hand and sliding his helmet off with the other. It fell to the ground with a muffled thud, still warm enough to melt the flakes of snow landing on it. That was the only proper protective gear he owned and, even so, he cared little about leaving it behind. Either way, he would no longer need it.

With morbid amusement, Sanji noted that the falling snow slowly covered the blood and the dead on the battlefield, hiding everything that was lost in such a short time. He trudged down the hill, leaving the archers behind as he moved closer to the field than he ever needed to be. The men behind him no longer fired as the infantry, or what was left of it, climbed up the hill in a slow advance towards their camp. Even battered and injured, they radiated cheer over their victory, momentarily forgetting all the lives they had lost.

Sanji ignored them and the occasional sideway glance shot his way. He had other things on his mind, mostly curses towards whatever deity was out there because the snow kept falling harder, obscuring his vision and covering the fallen of the enemy’s army with its pure whiteness. The hope that Zoro hadn’t fallen was still there, refusing to die down inside Sanji’s chest because he knew Zoro would never die like this, not in a fight that wasn’t his own.

Still, for all his bravery and stubbornness, Sanji couldn’t keep the fear at bay. Not when it was about losing Zoro when they were so close to their goal, so close to the civilian life they both desired. Empty dreams, he kept telling himself as he stumbled through bodies already as cold as the winter around them. He dared not glance at his feet; whether out of fear of seeing Zoro there or simply out of disgust that he was responsible for a fair amount of the deceased there, he wasn’t sure. His search was as pointless as it seemed, mostly because he refused to look at whichever face that still lay uncovered by the snow.

With a flicker of concern, he realized he was slowly moving towards the enemy camp. They were defeated, though, and he wasn’t wearing the winning army’s colors. Who would care about him, anyway?

He tripped over lumps on the ground with every step, but still refused to look down and watch where he was stepping through. Instead, Sanji glanced around, marveling about the utter vastness of the snow around him, the falling flakes creating a wall of depressing gray between him and whatever other living soul lay inside this storm. The soldiers still left on the field were nothing but dark shapes around him, moving about in the silence.

His chest ached with the hollow feeling he had carried inside for four months, ever since he parted ways with Zoro, nothing but a date and a meeting place to give them hope. Sanji remembered, with frightening clarity, how they promised to wait for each other for no more than three days in the designated place, even if he mentally promised himself he would wait however long it took. There was not a single doubt in his mind that Zoro would do the same. After all, they shared the same stubborn streak that brought them together time and time before and kept them alive for years already. It was simply not in either of their natures to give up.

It was the same stubborn streak that refused to let him give up on Zoro, pushing him forward through the snow and his own fear. Fear was nothing but an obstacle for the hope he harbored and his instinct that told him, without a doubt, that Zoro was somewhere in the cold, waiting for him. Their six months apart may not have been over, but neither of them would be able to walk away after finally being so close to each other.

Sanji stopped for a moment, closing his eyes for a moment of calm. The moment, however, stretched for longer than he planned, leaving him out in the open, in the middle of a battlefield with no cover or armor. He had nothing but the bow in his hand and a golden earring that was not his, hanging from his ear. The feeling of snow whipping his already half frozen face was dimming, the wet patches turning into sharp prickles of ice against his skin.

He opened his eyes to see the oppressing walls of a building storm gone, replaced by sharper flakes and a clearer view of his surroundings. The people were no longer mere shapes in the distance and Sanji could feel every warning bell in his body alerting him that he was, in fact, an easy target, if anyone would bother taking him down. The laugh left him in a startled huff; who would bother with him now?

A swift, painfully familiar whiz sounded through the air a second before his shoulder blossomed with fire. Ironic how he hadn’t listened to his instinct just once and lived to regret it. He could almost laugh at how things were turning out for him.

Barely noticing until it actually happened, Sanji found himself on his knees, his cloak already wet from the sludge beneath him. He was solely focused on the pain in his shoulder and the warmth seeping from the wound, the wood of the arrow jostling with his every subtle movement while the arrowhead tore the inside of his flesh. Being an archer himself, he could easily tell what the damage was and how lucky he was for the weak wind redirecting the arrow most likely aimed for his head. He could already tell the shooter was aiming again, this time thinking of the wind and moving his bow to compensate for it. The arrow came from the same hill he was settled on just a short while before and that was almost enough to feel betrayed, but he simply did not care. Maybe he should have.

Closing his eyes, he tried forgetting the pain and the blood seeping through the hole in his shoulder, soaking his tunic and the cloak he actually liked. The simple leather armor he wore on his jobs was nowhere near strong enough to stop an arrow and he managed to smile for a bittersweet moment as he remembered how many times Zoro tried to persuade him to wear something sturdier.

Ignoring the sting in his shoulder was easier said than done, however, and he gritted his teeth, patiently waiting for the next arrow to finish the job. After all, this was what he deserved, for all the lives he took because it meant money in his pocket, for every death cause for no other reason but profit. With a mercenary’s life, Sanji had little to hope for in terms of redemption and, somehow, he didn’t mind dying like this.

Through the haze of pain and the warmth of his own blood heating him just a tiny bit, Sanji could swear he heard a shout, a call of his name. Painfully enough, it sounded like Zoro’s voice and Sanji could laugh at how ridiculous that was, hearing the voice of your dead lover as you’re dying. Truly, a situation fairy tales are made of.

“Sanji, god damn it!”

Even with the heavy clouds and the falling snow, Sanji felt the shadow fall over him, the heat of another body enveloping around him so suddenly, he almost choked on his own stuttering breath. He kept his eyes closed, but still felt the arm going around his shoulders, enveloping him, but not touching. The warmth was intoxicating, filling his lungs with a pleasing tingle and his mind with a sudden calm. The dull hit of a sharp metal arrowhead through the thick wood of a shield sounded against his head, too loud and too close for comfort, but not close enough to hurt. It made him open his eyes, just in time to see Zoro on his feet, the axe from his other hand already flying through the air with unimaginable force and Sanji knew, without a doubt, that the archer was down in the most gruesome way he could imagine.

“What the hell are you thinking?!”

Sanji stared with his eyes wide as Zoro sank to his knee, shock coursing through him at the angry voice yelling into his ear as a warm, too gentle palm cupped the side of his neck while the shield moved over his back again. The arm holding it was bloody, but as steady as ever, the uniform sleeve torn around a clean looking cut. He gasped at the smaller wound cutting through Zoro’s left eyebrow and down the middle of his eye, but he wasn’t allowed even a moment to worry about it.

“Why the hell are you standing in plain sight?! Answer me!” Zoro continued yelling, but Sanji could hear the slight waver of his voice. “Hey, are you alright?” he asked, softer this time, but still frantic, worry tainting his usually steady voice.

“Zoro?” It was the only thing he could utter, the surprise still too strong. Really, he should have known Zoro wouldn’t die, he did know to an extent, but it was still a pleasing reveal. “I’m fine.”

He was not fine, the blood seeping through his clothes growing colder the longer they remained there and the cold, already freezing press of it against his skin only served to show him how much blood he was actually losing. Zoro, of course, knew. He always knew how badly Sanji was hurt, even when Sanji tried not to show it.

“You got your dumb ass shot!” His voice raised in volume once more; even worried, he was still angry about the situation. “You could have taken the guy out before the arrow even hit you! What were you thinking?!”

“I was looking for you,” he said truthfully. The scowl on Zoro’s face immediately softened, his eyes searching Sanji’s face as soon as the words left his mouth. For all their devotion and plans of leaving this life behind to be together, talking about feelings was the one thing they never did. Couldn’t afford it, they thought, talking about something that could be taken from them at any moment. But they came too close to it this time, too close to death for it to still feel comfortable.

Zoro huffed, being the sensible one, and decided it was a topic to breach when they weren’t surrounded by corpses and several archers ready to take them down.

“Listen to me,” he started, his voice serious with the worry replaced by professional calm. “I need to get the arrow out. I need to push it out through the front to do that, alright?” Zoro asked even though Sanji knew it wasn’t really a question he needed to answer. Still, he nodded in reply just so Zoro knew he was present enough. “When it’s out, we need to run. There are horses waiting, we just need to get to them. Can you run?” Again, it wasn’t really a question, Sanji knew he needed to run if he wanted to get away with his life. But he still nodded, aware he would need to push himself hard, but he could do it. Zoro was alive and that was enough for him to press forward.

Sanji let his eyes fall close and, despite the jostling of the arrow in his shoulder, took a deep breath to steady himself. No matter how brave and reckless he was, removing an arrow was always painful. He heard the thud of the wooden shield hitting the ground behind him before, without a warning, Zoro pushed the arrow forward. The metal of the arrowhead was sharp enough to smoothly pierce his shoulder all the way before he, through the overwhelming pain, felt Zoro break off the tail end of the arrow.

It hurt more than he remembered, his teeth sinking into his lower lip and immediately drawing blood. He felt it smooth over his chin in a thin hot line as Zoro gripped the arrowhead and pulled out the remains of the arrow through the front of Sanji’s shoulder. The pain remained, dimming just barely, but the pressure finally eased. Zoro’s bandana, however, was pressed against the entry wound and Sanji immediately reached to hold it in place, just as he was told to do.

Zoro may have mumbled something apologetic, at least, as apologetic as he could be, before his hand pulled at the elbow of Sanji’s uninjured arm, dragging him to his feet. Before he could even properly open his eyes, Sanji was running, Zoro’s hand never easing its grip on his elbow. Sanji hardly needed the support, the shock of being wounded and seeing Zoro alive and well already fading as they ran through the throng of dead bodies strewn across the ground. For once, Sanji let Zoro lead the way, trusting him to get them to the horses and far away from the field.

The cold air eased the throbbing of the still fresh wound on his shoulder and Sanji couldn’t help but be grateful. It wasn’t even close to the worst of the injuries he endured through his career, if he were honest, but what hurt was the fact this time, it was entirely his fault. There was no surprise that Zoro was mad because, surely, he knew it too, he knew better than anyone about Sanji’s strength and abilities. Of course, he was also painfully familiar with Sanji’s recklessness as well, and Sanji could already hear the impending lecture for his behavior.

With a jolt of surprise, Sanji could see the two dark horses in front of them; morbidly so, he had half expected Zoro getting them lost deep into hostile territory with nothing but certain death for them. He was still so sure they weren’t deserving of such an easy escape. Even so, no one stopped them or even tried to as they reached the horses. Sanji noted there were bags fastened to each saddle, while one carried the all too familiar sheath with Zoro’s sword, but deemed it unimportant as he hurried to start on putting a considerable distance between themselves and the last embers of the battle.

Before he managed to heave himself onto the closest of the two horses, Zoro pulled Sanji back and, with a swift movement, tore a piece of the dark blue cloak Sanji liked dearly.

“Oi! You ruined my favorite cloak!” he shouted, yet he was ignored as Zoro slapped Sanji’s hand away from his shoulder, letting his own blood soaked bandana fall to the ground before he roughly bandaged Sanji’s injury with the cloth. Admittedly, the cloak was ruined as soon as the arrow pierced through it, but that could still have been salvaged. Zoro was never one to pay much attention to such material possessions, unless they were his weapons, so really, Sanji shouldn’t have been surprised in the slightest.

“Get on the horse,” Zoro said harshly and as if Sanji had never spoken. “Where did you stash your earnings?” The question was uttered softly as Zoro climbed on his horse, Sanji following his lead. He almost laughed at the question, or rather, how Zoro didn’t bother asking whether Sanji hid his gold somewhere.

“The forest behind Florian crossroads, buried under the oak with three horizontal slashes on it,” Sanji said as he settled into his saddle before finally glancing at Zoro, just in time to see him chuckle. For good reason, too, considering that particular area had a reputation of being the biggest meeting place for witches in the kingdom. Or maybe he was chuckling at the way Sanji decided to mark his tree. He spurred the horse into motion, slowly at first because, even if they had to leave as quickly as possible, they still needed to agree on a plan of action. “You?”

“Ruins in the Jaya forest,” Zoro answered and looked back to Sanji, waiting for suggestions. After all, Sanji was the one with the plans and, as soon as Zoro revealed his hiding place, Sanji’s mind was working on what to do next. It was easy, really; the meeting place they agreed on four months before was almost directly in the middle between the two places they chose to hide their money.

The decision was an easy one for Sanji, knowing Zoro would agree yet again. “We get the gold and meet at the Sunny Inn on the eve of the Solstice in two weeks.” The plan was a simple one, knowing they were so close to their goal, at long last. “Do you have any gold on you?” Sanji asked as an afterthought; he got his payment, even if all of his, albeit sparse, possessions were still in his tent at the camp. He wasn’t going back for them, anyway. Zoro, however, was on the losing end of the battle, his employer dead and probably close to rotting on the field behind them.

To Sanji’s surprise, Zoro grinned before replying. “The king fell so I took my payment and a bonus from his tent. And the horses.” Well, that explained the bags and prompted a grin from Sanji as well. With a nod and, as always, forgoing the goodbye, Sanji turned his horse towards the south. He only turned back once, meeting Zoro’s eyes for a moment far too brief before they headed in opposite directions. Separating once again after what felt like just a moment together was anything but easy, yet Sanji knew two weeks would be easier to survive than two more months, even if he would spend them worrying about the state of Zoro’s eye.

* * *

The horse was barely standing by the time they reached the stables behind the inn. Daylight had long since dimmed from the cloudy sky, leaving nothing but the glow of snow to lead Sanji’s way. He should have been there hours ago, long before nightfall, even if he wasn’t exactly late for the time they agreed on. Seeing Zoro’s horse lazing around in the stable made things worse and better at the same time, filling him with relief from knowing they both made it, yet pissng him off because Zoro, of all people, made it there first.

He trudged through the knee high snow, his boots sinking into the growing layer as he made his way to the front door. The cloak he stole days ago, covering the bag of gold coins, was weighing him down with all the snow and ice clinging to it, but he was so close now, he could almost feel the warmth of the inn. Light was streaming out through the small windows, shining on the delicate decorations hanging against the glass. Sanji was glad, at least, that he made it in time for the holiday.

As best as he could, he shook the accumulated snow from the hood on his head and the clumps frozen solid on the hem of the cloak before lifting his healthy arm, fingers clenched tightly around the wood of a new bow, to knock on the door. Movement could be heard immediately, heavy steps thudding against wooden floorboards. Sanji couldn’t keep back the grin, knowing exactly who it was behind the door.

The door was unbolted and opened just a crack for a brief moment before it was pulled wide open, strong arms pulling Sanji into a hug, just a tad too tight. It was in that moment that Sanji knew how long it had been since the last time he saw Franky and, by extension, Robin as well. She was there to greet him as soon as Franky let him go, slipping him a key before instructing Franky to lock the door so Sanji could climb the stairs without delay. He hadn’t even managed to let go of his bow in the commotion.  

He didn’t waste any time, running up the stairs with ease, barely making a sound. The leftover snow from his cloak melted, dripping over the worn wood as he walked, but it hardly made a difference to him, even if he might have usually worried about it. Even though he hadn’t asked which room Zoro was in, Sanji knew which one it would have been; Robin had her ways and motives he didn’t want to know about, but he was already used to her saving the same room for them each time they passed through the area.

His hand touched the door knob as soon as the door came within reach, the key barely inches from the lock when the door opened and Zoro’s hand pulled him into the room with a firm grip on the collar of his cloak. Sanji stumbled, but was steadied by another hand before Zoro kissed him, kicking the door shut behind them. The bow slipped from his gloved fingers, landing on the floor with a soft thud, as his hands slid around Zoro’s waist. Allowing himself a moment to clutch to Zoro, thankful that they both made it this far, his hands fisting in the fabric of Zoro’s shirt.

Zoro kissed him like it was the last time he’d ever get the chance to, his hand letting go of Sanji’s cloak and sliding into his hair instead, pushing the soaked hood off of Sanji’s head in the process. Sanji was more than happy to continue making up for lost time over the previous four months, but Zoro stopped kissing him just as swiftly as he had started. His hands were fast but precise as he unfastened the heavy cloak and removed it from Sanji’s shoulders, letting it drop to the floor, followed by the bag Sanji had hidden underneath. It was happening so fast, he could barely blink before Zoro was working on removing Sanji’s shirt as well, trying to get to the bandages wrapped tightly around the injured shoulder.

“Oi!” he snapped, finally coming to his senses as he glanced towards Zoro’s face and noticed the cut on his face. It was already scabbed over and didn’t look too deep, but his eye was closed and, clearly, it wasn’t bandaged, which, honestly, didn’t surprise Sanji in the slightest.

Despite Sanji’s protest, Zoro manhandled the shirt off of him as well, losing interest in it as soon as it was no longer touching Sanji’s skin. He was tugging at the bandages, the intent of unwrapping them clear as day. Sanji slapped his hands away, glaring at Zoro who, unnecessarily so, was scowling back at him.

“I’m fine,” Sanji said, biting back the annoyance. “What the hell happened to your eye?” he asked as Zoro stepped back, albeit reluctantly, giving him enough space to remove his boots.

Zoro shrugged in reply, but decided to speak as well, knowing Sanji wouldn’t take that as an answer. “Got grazed by an axe.” The statement was delivered with such calm, Sanji might have thought they were discussing the amount of snowfall they’ve been having this winter. “Could have been worse,” he added with another shrug. Sanji could only sigh, knowing Zoro was entirely content with just one functioning eye.

“Arm?” Sanji asked next, nodding towards the cut on Zoro’s forearm he noticed before they separated.

“‘s fine, already healing.” Zoro sounded sure as he delivered the answer, but Sanji could note the pure nervousness that creeped into his posture as soon as the clock to the side struck midnight. Before Sanji could be glad they were together on such an important holiday, Zoro spoke again. “Where’d you get the cloak?” he asked, eyes scanning the pile of wet fabric around Sanji’s feet.

“Borrowed it,” he replied innocently, even though they both knew ‘borrowing’ meant stealing to them, “because someone ruined my favorite one.” His accusation was followed by a glare; milder than the usual death stares, but still enough to light the guilt inside Zoro’s gut. Even so, Sanji wasn’t really mad. After all, what was a cloak when it came to them both surviving another war.

Turning away from Zoro, Sanji stepped closer to the bed, fully intending to make good use of it after months of sleeping in a tent when Zoro came behind him. Uncharacteristically, he let his chin rest on Sanji’s shoulder, murmuring what might as well have been an apology as he dropped a package onto the bed, just within Sanji’s reach.

“Open it.”

Not one to refuse presents, especially for the Solstice, he reached out, careful not to prompt Zoro into moving his head, instead feeling the soft caress of fingers against his sides, Sanji unwrapped the plain paper. The light fur collar was enough to recognize what his present was, but still, he ran his fingers over it before lifting the new cloak from the neat pile. His eyes grazed over the dark fabric and the silver snowflakes embroidered evenly into it, the light fur and the brass clasps holding the collar closed.

He smiled, leaning back into Zoro’s chest in way of thanks, accepting the embrace he received in return and, for the first time in far too long, finally let himself believe that they made it, at last.

 

 


End file.
